Escapism, pure and simple

As lovely as reality can be sometimes, I guess I'm an escapist at heart. That's something I've known for awhile, but revisited this weekend. Two of my favorite forms of escape seem to be looking at art and reading. I do the second one more than the first, just because it is usually more convenient. This weekend, my parents were in town for Thanksgiving. We spent most of our time with the children, but then, on Saturday, looking for something to entertain ourselves with, we went to the museum, just the three of us, and floated in our own reflective orbits, shedding the worries and cares of our lives for a while. I got to take a break from having to fish for topics of conversation...always a challenge for me as we just walked from room to room. Dad had his commentaries on what we saw, but it was nothing really intrusive to the peaceful, soothing quality of the experience. Looking at art is my drug of choice.

I live in a house without a TV. Most of the time, I am determined to keep it that way. TV is full of nothing much as far as I'm concerned and I'd much rather, read or write. Both of which I do in large quantities. But writing is often a form of analysis. It's reading that can offer pure escape, especially fiction. I love time travel and alternate reality books the most and have just started one called The Time Travelers (vol. 1) by Caroline B. Cooney, who is a YA author, it seems. It's not particularly great literature but it is escapist and that seems to be what I crave!